


I Exist in Nothing, Not Even the Clouds

by Mersayde



Series: Ghastly Antiques [2]
Category: None - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Blind Character, F/M, Vague Death, implied homicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-02
Updated: 2018-05-02
Packaged: 2019-04-27 01:20:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14414556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mersayde/pseuds/Mersayde
Summary: the line between existing and living has always been blurred, especially for themWritten: 3/21/16





	I Exist in Nothing, Not Even the Clouds

The place where time and space intertwine is a fabrication of the mind. I used to think that it existed, because it was once evidence that I, despite my efforts, did as well. There was this girl that knew how to though. Her presence tamed the malice in my heart. She felt as though she gave me a purpose to live beyond myself, to seek out a disparate meaning of my wearisome presence. 

"You shouldn’t say that about yourself. People really do care for you, like..." She would say, dragging out her last few words, ruminating momentarily for a convincing answer. “Me-I care for you, R." As those uncertain words escaped her lips, she smiled brightly at me and laughed, telling me how much she cared for me. She did that a lot. If only I felt something, anything at all that let me know I existed back then, things would be different. Maybe. I could never bring myself to reciprocate her feelings or even acknowledge the fact that I had feelings in the first place. 

"You're different, R, ya know? But not the good different, at least I don’t think." She would say, a sad smile dancing its way onto her face. 

"In what way am I different then?" She looked at me, astonished that I actually listened. She told me that I was the epitome of destruction, but I already knew that. It's not hard to see how she came to that conclusion. The way my feet scorched the soil they presented themselves upon; the way my lungs breathed fire, seizing the airs attention as I spoke. They are very glaring faults and hazardous signs; you would have to be blind or unbelievably dense to not be able to notice them. She was both, and thrived off the images she created in her mind. Her imagination, I'll call it, held a dangerous gravitational pull that kept her coming back to me. She believed that I existed and to encourage such an outlandish fantasy was useless. 

But I did anyway; indulge in her imagination that is. I wanted to see how far I could get, how much I could convince myself of what she saw. I still remember that day, we stood on the cliff staring down at the water, shooting aimless thoughts into the air; dreaming about how nice it would be if bodies of water danced with the clouds and if clouds danced with bodies of water or if they collided and created a new distinct entity altogether. 

That day she smiled at me nervously, forming a string of words that should have been brought to me. Silence enveloped us both. She convinced herself that I was something she couldn’t live without, convinced herself that fire no longer resided in my lungs, that my feet no longer scorched the soil. She said those words again, authenticating them. Those three words ignited the dormant fire in my throat as I spoke back to her, reminding her that I was destruction. I needed her to see that, to see the truth, but she couldn’t or rather refused to. 

I still remember that day, on the cliff. That day a precarious grin settled onto my face, the first time an expression of that manner ever appeared. That moment, when she confessed her love for me the malice that dwelled in me could no longer be tamed, it erupted, boiling over my already questionable conscious. That day, with my hazy mind, I took her existence away from her. 

"You were different too, T. I just can't love you the way you did me and I'm sorry." I whispered my last words to her, satisfaction coursing through my veins. I watched as she merged with the oceans in the sky, simply beautiful, a quality she possessed only through death. I smiled and breathed the misty air into my ash filled lungs. That day was the day I existed and from then on reminded of how much I, despite my efforts, did indeed exist.

**Author's Note:**

> My teacher gave the class an assignment where we had to write a narrative about a picture. The picture she gave us was of someone standing on a cliff. And boom shakalaka.
> 
> Comments? Kudos? Fave parts?


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